Throw Up My Hands
Disclaimer: The word friend is used to describe family, friends, blood related relatives, church family, and my cancer support group interchangeably.
Special thanks to… all of my “friends” who made what could have been a nightmare an absolute adventure. Thank you!
If one phrase can clearly express the dichotomy of cancer it’s that exactly… “throw up my hands.”
Clinging to life, but ultimately not having any control.
The good and the bad.
A universal symbol of surrender.
A spiritual symbol of dependence on worshiping God.
One of my favorite songs by Brandon Lake called “Gratitude,” moves me to do just that, surrender and “throw up my hands.”
There’s a story in the Bible of a man’s hands being held in the air. This man Moses was leading the Israelites in a battle against the Amalekites. Scripture goes on to describe Moses’ success in battle this way:
11 As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. 12 When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset (Exodus 17:11-12).
Somedays, I am great at submitting to God’s control over my life, but most days, I move and be as if God’s sovereignty depends on me.
My tendency to do things myself really had to change in the wake of feeling the worst symptoms of my looming cancer, a cancer diagnosis, treatment, and survivorship.
My friends did just that: held up my hands.
I advanced because they held me up in the presence of my nemesis: cancer. God’s love for me, spread amongst an entire army walking through the fire with me.
My friends cleaned my house, willingly folded my husband’s underwear, visited me in the hospital, prepared meals, dropped off takeout, traveled hundreds of miles to pamper me, gave my kids opportunities to be kids, and refused to let me win at Scrabble. They held a space for me to pour out my heart and loved me through the trauma I was experiencing. My people validated my feelings, even if they had never been in my shoes.
Then, there was the group of friends that knew what I was going through. In an effort to find people in my stage of life walking through unforeseen circumstances, I discovered an organization that focuses on coming alongside adolescents and young adults who have crossed paths with cancer. Elephants and Tea exist so that no one has to walk through cancer alone.
To say I had the best of both worlds supporting my journey is an understatement. I had an opportunity to write for Elephants and Tea last Fall and this Spring discussing the power of finding the good on a ferocious cancer journey. You will definitely want to check out the newest article “The Power of Your Herd,” and the one you’ve probably already read, “Make Gratitude the Loudest.”
No one should have to fight cancer alone. A herd of any size has immeasurable strength. If you are walking through cancer treatment or chronic health issues, please know I am praying for the one friend that will cheer for you on your good days and bad days.
My Neck of the Woods
May is around the corner…
The planting of good things to come. I won’t see the tomatoes and strawberries, but I can tend to them and watch them grow. Enough said, right? Waiting is hard. Tending is hard. Are you in a season of tending to the things you want to produce, good fruit? Or are you in a season of blooming? Possibly both. I would love to be praying for you and celebrating you. Drop a comment or fill out this form, so we can connect.
Wherever you are, good fruit is coming.
My son flies the coup next school year, to say I feel like an empty nester is completely ridiculous and insensitive to those sending their grown babies off to new endeavors, but it feels like the chicks hatched, and now, they are flying. He starts preschool next year. I will be attempting to intentionally live outside the day to day before sisters are off of school for summer break.
I’d love to hear your ideas to celebrate the end of an era - transitioning from staying at home with my babes to all of the kiddos being at school the majority of the week.
Because you are my praying crew…
May marks a milestone - a huge milestone. It’s a milestone people dream of. A milestone folks with chronic illness hold on to both lightly and tightly. May marks one year of remission. One year without evidence of disease and no treatment. One year of feeling the joy of healing. One year of mourning the reality that I am surrounded by people who haven’t had the same experience.
One year of holding…
The light and the dark.
The joy and the sadness.
The clarity and the confusion.
Deliverance and waiting.
Celebrating remission comes with an upcoming month of throwing up my hands in the CT machine, waiting, waiting, getting nauseous on the way to appointments, waiting some more at the oncologist’s office, and sitting in front of my oncologist to hear what’s next.
A moment of “throwing up my hands,” so my body can creep through the scanning machine.
A moment of “throwing up my hands,” surrendering to God’s sovereignty.
If you feel inclined to pray for my family and I, that would mean so much to me. Pray that I can embrace May with joy and freedom from the wrath of cancer. That in the midst of an angsty time, I will fix my eyes on the everyday blessings God pours out to me.
From the bottom of my heart…Thank you for being a part of my dream herd!
